The Website
by Daydreamingofothers
Summary: The Doctor touches people's lives everywhere he goes without even realising it sometimes. Some of the people personally affected by him have put foward submissions about their encounter on a website all about him.
1. Chapter 1

**Guten tag everyone! This is the first Doctor Who Fanfic I've done and reviews are extremely welcome! So please, sit back, kick up your feet and let yourself be lost in words for a few moment...**

Ok, this is the first time I've ever told anyone about what happened. And I'm not really verbally voicing this- a bit of a copout really; just typing this on the internet to a website full of weirdos like me who society views as sociopaths.

Well. I may as well spit it out. Here it goes. Deep breathe in and deep breathe out.

No one will believe me.

No one does. No one ever believes anything I say. No one listens. Maybe this website will listen to my story. It's not that interesting. I'm not that interesting really.

Well, I am, but no one cares to get to know me and to know my interesting-ness.

Ok, I'm stalling now. Just get on with it!

I'm Lottie. Charlotte Vixen. An unfortunate name, but at least I'm a girl. My brother has the surname Vixen. That a moment to think about him. But this is not his story is it? No it is not. It's my story and so we will be leaving my brother out of this.

Anyway. Where was I? Ah yes, introductions. I'm Lottie and this is the story of my encounter with the Doctor.

I was five and lost. In London. Which I do not recommend to any five year old. You will have nightmares for at least three months afterwards. I was in London and lost. I was snotty, crying and had hiccups. Not the best combination. And so on my little five year old feet I walked through the crowds crying out for mummy. To which every business man and woman alike stared at me for a brief few seconds and quickly trotted away- scared I was some secret scam of distracting them whilst my mother mugged them. This was obviously not the case, but no one helped me. A five year old in London, not helped by a single person.

It was dangerous. I could be kidnapped or worse trampled on by the shiny banker's shoes. Just as I was walking down a side street, I heard a strange noise. A sort of...whooing noise. I'm not sure how to describe it, but if you had heard it you would remember it for the rest of your life.

I couldn't stop my legs from walking towards the noise which turned out to be coming from a large blue police box. A square police box which lingers in the corners of my dreams to this day. Then the noise stopped and the door swung open and out stepped a woman. She was one of the most beautiful women I have seen. She had messy blonde hair and was wearing jeans and a hoodie. Yet she was stunning as she smiled and laughed at someone who was still in the box. I stood rooted on the spot- like as if I hoped that if I was still enough I would turn invisible. She stood out of the way and then a man stepped out of the box.

He was tall, had a shaven head and a long nose. But something about him drew you to him. Something made you want to know more about him. He smiled at the woman and then turned on his heel, only to lock eyes on me. He nudged the girl and then pointed at me. She gasped and rushed over to me and asked me a bunched of questions which I can't remember. The thing that I remember the most is that fact I went into the police box.

It was bigger on the inside.

And it took me home.

The Doctor took me home, just in time for my mum to be getting out of the car and for me to slip out and run to the front door to pretend as if she hadn't forgotten me and left be to be lost in London.

It was magical how quickly we got there and how well timed the doctor had got it.

It is only know that I realised that I had timed travelled. Only by an hour, but an hour more than most people.

Then I heard them leave.

I still hear that whooing noise. I always get excited. Always. Just another ride in that blue box. Just another glance of the beautiful and the interesting man.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey! Another submission in! Just to say I couldn't remember the exact details from the episode this is based on, so if there are major mistakes just let me know and I shall edit. You know the drill: Read and Review! **

I can remember the rush of everyone trying to get out of the shopping centre. The mannequins were alive. That is not supposed to happen. That is not natural. They are made of plastic. It was either a publicity stunt gone very wrong or some one's sick idea of fun.

I now know that it was neither. It was something to do with the Doctor.

I should tell you, dear probably-anti-social-your-mother-warned-me-about-you reader, about myself. We on this website all know about the Doctor- or bits about his that over the years we have fit together and attempted to understand. But you know nothing about the source of this information. I am Jeff or Jeffery according to my grandfather or Jeff-Weff by my mother. But everyone else calls me Jeff: my friends, my teachers, strangers (who I introduce myself to as Jeff) and my dad.

This is a story of how my dad died.

It was winter and cold enough for a coat. But not cold enough for a scarf or hat. Dad and I were attempting to get dearest mother's presents for Christmas- it was easier to get them early, so we could change our minds and have time to get something else. She is impossible to shop for. And so we were wondering around the shops like stereotypical men- looking lost and trying to be as quick as possible in our hunt to get back home in time for supper.

The screams rolled down the corridor of shops and then hit us smack in the face. A woman came running down with a face that was full of pure terror. My dad however didn't think anything was wrong and turned to me, jokingly said

"Must be a sale on the Prada"

Then we saw what she was running from.

The mannequins were walking and had their arms outstretched, like an oversized ugly Barbie looking for a hug. Dad knew something was wrong and began to pull me towards the exit, as was everyone else. The crowds poured out of the shopping centre and onto the high street- which was also full of the walking mannequins. Dad began to pull me along and swerved through the crowds. I lost him in the crowds and like any eleven year old I burst into tears.

I was lost in a crowd whilst mannequins were looking for hugs. The mannequins then began to start shooting.

I let the tears stream down as I ran and screamed for Dad. I then ran straight into him. The Doctor. He seemed in a rush, carrying a mannequin arm, but he stopped and looked at me and then looked up and around for something. I wouldn't have been this comfortable with a stranger, but I let him turn me around and pointed me in the direction of dad. The doctor then ran off.

I began to run towards dad, who spotted me and began to run towards me. Neither of us saw the mannequin dressed in a sharp James Bond suit until it was too late. The mannequin shot dad.

It was like in the movies. Time just stopped as I watched dad tumble down, his arms still reaching out to me. Then time sped up and I ran to him and wept. I didn't care that I was at threat of being stood on, my dad had just be killed right before my eyes. Nothing else mattered. Dad was dead.

The reason for dad's death was kept under wraps for almost ten years now. I had to sign a contract with Torchwood that promised I would not tell anyone about that night for the next ten years. I've kept my promise.

But I am glad the doctor pointed out my dad to me- I was the last thing my dad saw and I know it's not the death he deserved, he deserved to live till he was an old batty man, but at least he was able to see how happy I was to find him again, even if it was for a few moments.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello! Thanks to Ayluy for the first review! Hopefully this next one will not fail to disappoint- however this features a doctor of which I never actually have seen any episodes, so the characterisation came from a Wikipedia search. Any suggestions, critics or comments in general can be put forward in the form of a review.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who, if I did I think I would be a lot better at physics.**

I am Marie. I am currently sixty-five years old, but this should not make you stop reading my story. My story is about my meeting of the Doctor. It was some time ago- longer ago than most people's accounts on this website that my grandson showed me.

It is the tale of a twenty something young woman who was in London.

I was in London for the first time by myself. I had learnt the map and directions my father had given me off by heart. There was no way of me contacting my parents if something went wrong, there were only pay phones and you would have wait up to an hour in queuing to use them most of the time.

I was going for an interview. For a job, I was going to have a job and make myself a living. I felt bad for pegging off my parents- I was twenty for goodness sake! I also had brothers and sisters younger than myself and I knew my parents would be grateful for one less mouthful to feed and could use the money somewhere else. I was going to apply for the position of a secretary to some large new publishing firm.

I was somewhat over-qualified; I could touch-type, use short hand and was able speak and write in French and a little Latin. Yet I was a nervous wretch. I was about to open the door and sit down in the lobby, when it hit me. I was about to do something by myself for the first time in my life. I couldn't handle the sudden rush of independence I felt.

It was a sudden smack in the face realisation. I turned swiftly on my heel and began to walk. I didn't know where I was walking to. Let my mind drift and my feet took me to Trafalgar square. I proceed to collapse on to the grey steps and let the tears stream down my face. I didn't notice the time pass nor did I notice the figure of a man standing over me until he sat down next to me and ask

"Jelly Baby?"

I sniffed and looked at him as he held out a bag towards me, Jelly Babies; I hadn't had any of those since I was a child. This made me sob more. This made the man looked panicked and probably concerned for my mental health. Once I finished crying, I looked back up at the man; he was tallish (though it was hard to tell as he was sitting down), middle aged with curly brownish hair and a long multicoloured scarf.

I coughed out,

"I'm sorry sir, but may I ask, to whom am I speaking?"

I do not know what made me ask for his name, but I was acting quite strange that day. He smiled and replied "Most people call me Doctor."

I was instantly intrigued "Just Doctor?"

"Just Doctor."

"Well, I am Marie. Just Maire." I stuck out my hand (a little fiercely) and he shook it. He then smiled at me and offered another jelly baby. I took it. Lemon, my favourite flavour.

We sat on those steps and ate the seeming never ending jelly babies. We also talked, but it was mostly me who did the talking- I told him how nervous I was and about my family. We only stopped when he glanced at his watch and raised an eye brow at me like my father frequently did. I glanced at my watch- I had 2 minutes to get to the interview. I had been talking to the Doctor for over an hour. I jumped up and he followed suit, only more calmly and slower. I was about to ask him if he knew the way to the offices, but he simply handed me the bag of remaining jelly babies and pointed down a side street.

"The second left, good luck Marie!" He turned on his foot, almost tripped on his scarf and wandered off, like as if he had somewhere he didn't want to be. I followed his directions and clutched to the jelly babies for dear life.

I was about 100 yards from the office buildings the whole time. I made the interview and got the job.

It was only recently that I retired as one of the company's best editors. And I always have a bag of jelly babies in my desk drawer, just in case someone has a nervous breakdown.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello! Here we are again with another story, thanks to WeLoveWeLive for the review! I'll try to keep it up! **

**Disclaimer: If I owned Doctor Who Rose and the tenth Doctor would be together. **

My story of the Doctor is one that happened quite recently. My three year old daughter had a rather long encounter with him. This is what happens when you forget your daughter and leave her in the toy shop. My daughter, April, and I were returning from a rather successful trip to the shops- she had not cried even once. No tantrum. Nothing. Nada. That was until I made the mistake of taking the short cut which passes the toy shop. And out came the cries and screams and kicks "Muuuuuuuummmmmmmyyyyy"

I was at a loss. I felt that a few minutes in there wouldn't hurt; she had been uncharacteristically angelic. So through the door we entered into her heaven and my hell. Kids ran around picking up toys demanding them and then dropping them on the floor seeing something more worth their attention. I made the mistake of letting April off her leash and she went off spiriting. The next mistake I made was answering my phone and not following April.

That's how I ended up at home listening to my mother's ramblings about Barbara's nephew's girlfriend's hairdresser's cousin. Then it struck me after the phone call. It was quiet. Too quiet. I searched the house and April could not be found anywhere. This is the moment when a mother can either a) have a nervous breakdown or b) become over rational and act like they are on drugs. I'm more of druggie. And like lightening I was out the door and retracing my steps at a speed that would make a cheetah jealous.

I made my way back to the shop and the relief that flowed when I saw her is indescribable. There she was, in the arms of a strange man. I stormed in and walked straight up to this rather young guy, wearing a bowtie and a name-tag that read "Doctor".

"Excuse me; I believe you have my daughter." I smiled wearily at him, hoping to God he would see our likeness and not think me a child-snatcher. He looked at me for a moment with a raised eye-brow, then back down at April. He smiled brightly and handed her over to me.

"Thank you very much-" I paused for a moment trying to read his name-tag as April hugged me like her life depended on it.

"Doctor" He informed me "Now if you excuse me, I have to help those boys work those helicopters! Bye April!" And before I could thank him again he was gone.

I felt a little bemused, but bought April the bear that she would not let go and we headed home. On the way home, April happily told me the stories the Doctor had told her about how there was a planet populated completely by teddy-bear like creatures and that they didn't actually like tea- they preferred fish fingers and custard.

I thought it was a rather amusing story, considering maybe that the Doctor was simply an entertainer hired by the toy store for the weekend to tell stories of the toys to naive children and thus boosting sales. So I thought, why not research this 'Doctor' fellow.

My search brought me here.

Maybe the story of the Teddy-bear planet wasn't a work of fiction.


	5. Chapter 5

**I am not that happy with this one, but I have however been stuck for inspiration: suggestions will be taken at this point. It was a bit of a spure of the moment-let's-write-the-first-thing-that-comes-to-my-head. I don't feel I got the Doctor's characterisation right either. Eugh, I'll just have to life with it. Reviews would be absolutely BRILLANTLY FANTASTICALLY COOL. **

**Disclaimer: If I owned Doctor Who, My laptop wouldn't be broken. **

I walked into his machine. The blue police box that goes WOOO-EEEE-WOOO. I walked straight into it.

I'm Simon. And I walked into a bloody bright blue box. It wasn't even that I walked into it from behind or anything. I walked into it face first.

I remember the noise and the wind and the gradual fading that happened before I walked into it. I did however think my mind was playing tricks on me. It was the hottest day of the year and I was walking on a bloody big hill for this bloody stupid DOE (Duke of Edinburgh scheme for you non brits out there). I had also run out of water. It was natural for me to presume it was my mind playing tricks.

I walked into his box.

I was knocked out completely. Which is rather surprising, but it was really my fault- I was the one who fully consciously walked into his box. I must have been walked with some strength.

The next thing I know I am faced with a stunning brunette who is feeling my pulse and jumps back about five feet when she sees me just staring at her. She turned to a man who was also a brunette, but his hair was not shiny and as far as I was aware did not smell as good as her hair did. His hair looked like it had been under attack by a pair of ravenous gel coated hands.

He looked over at me and smiled, that's how at once I knew he was different. No one smiles like that- get real, you don't see people smiling like that at someone who they have just met.

Then again there was something off about his smile. The Doctor was a bit of a contraction. His smile was so bright and optimistic- like when you have finally figured out what you want to do with your life; then his eyes looked like they carried the weight of the world or had seen the end and regretted that he wasn't there to suffer too.

I sat up whilst the brunette and the man talked in muttered tunes. I walked over to them- my back was relieved to have my back pack taken off it. I coughed and they looked up at me. The man smiled and held out his hand- an action that made him look awkward, but I took it and shook it. He then introduced himself:

"I'm the Doctor" he then gestured to the pretty brunette "and this is Martha, you took a bit of a bump! Sorry about that, she-" he tapped the console that stood next to us "can act up! Now judging by the amount of mud on your trousers and the tent strapped to your backpack-I'm guessing you need to get to a campsite."

He then turned and flicked some switches. Martha began to brace herself. I soon learnt why as I was flung across the room and hit my head once more.

I can't remember much more really. I woke up at the camp site in a tent.

Apparently I just wondered out from the nearby woods with a bit of a dazed look on my face. I would never forget his or her face though.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Well, it's been some time hasn't it? I have been trying to think of new situations, but it's harder than originally thought! This one just came about organically, so let me know what you think (aka REVIEW- PLEASE REVIEW, I BEG YOU TO!) Now that the shameless review begging is done here is the story to review. And thanks to those whom have reviewed and followed etc!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who or all that. If I did, well it wouldn't be as confusing. **

I saw him, or rather I sat on him.

It was about a year or so ago, I was on the tube and the day was not going to plan at all.

I missed the train up into London and was an hour late, then I got lost in the underground, trying to figure out if it was the brown line I needed to take, or the red line. Maybe it was the blue line. But the point is that I was lost and I didn't like it one little bit.

I was wondering down one of the endless grimy used-to-be-white tunnels and I found the tube I was to be taking. I stepped towards the doors and SLAM, they closed on my face: just plain rude. I looked at the doors in dismay, I was already late and now I was going to be more so. I wanted to cry to be frank.

Then there was a small buzzing noise and I noticed this strange, screwdriver touch hybrid being zapped at the door, which then slide open for me and then closed behind me once I got on the carriage. I wanted to thank the mysterious person who used the even more mysterious tool to aid me.

Then I sat on him. Well, I fell on him; those blasted tubes are always overcrowded, no matter what time of day. I sprung up off him lap quicker than a 68 year old is able to. He let out a glorious laugh and then got off the seat and offered it to me. I didn't think twice about it. Once I was settled I began to ask about him and where he was going, small talk that was suitable to discuss on a tube.

He smiled and told me how he was trying to get a part for his machine, the TARDIS, which I presumed was some German car or something. He told me that it's been a few years since he was last in London and how last time he was here he met some rather odd people, so has been putting off visiting for some time, so he went travelling around the globe for a bit. He was an interesting kind chap. He pulled the hybrid machine thing out of his leather jacket as it was beeping. Now it had become a strange sat-nav. He said his goodbyes and wished me luck for the rest of my journey.

It was when I was at my daughter's apartment and asked her about this new car the TARDIS that she gave me a strange look and decided to google it.

It lead us to this website and you were laden with images of him, who I should call Doctor, seeing as just referring to him as 'him' constantly is just rude. However the Doctor did tell me him name was John.

It has taken me a while to decide whether or not my account was important enough or not, but it appears you people out there are quite enthralled by this man, or alien as some of you keep on insisting. Whatever you think he is, I stand by my judgement that I made when I first met him. He is a nice chap who likes to help old ladies on the tubes, even though he doesn't have to.

**A/N: If you have any suggestions, compliments or critics- just review! Thanks again! **


	7. Chapter 7

**Long time no see eh? I was struck with inspiration after the Christmas special (so good!) and this little thing appeared! Reviews are welcomed! Enjoy...**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who. If I did, it would be a lot less complicated. **

I would visit my grandmother every second Monday of each month. My mother was afraid of me being estrange towards her, so she was determined to establish a close relationship between myself and my grandmother.

I think Gran dreaded the visit as much as I did. She would prefer to have the house to herself or be off playing bridge with some girl friends and a bottle of gin. But every second Monday of each month she was lumped with me for an afternoon.

Sometime all we would do is watch television, other times we wouldn't say a word to each other, except when offering and/or accepting tea.

I will always remember the stories she would tell though. If you caught her at the right time, with the right temperament and the right amount of sunshine; the stories would just flow from her. They would be tales that she would make me swear not to tell my mother about. She was a drifter, my Gran; a traveller and a wanderer who was just drifting through the world on any breeze strong enough to carry her.

Her stories were vibrant and colourful; the fresh crisp mountains of Switzerland, the noise and rainbows of India and the bright relentless lights of New York that reflected the stars. There would always be characters in the stories, which would accompany Gran through the winding alley ways and down through streams.

But there was always a recurring character- he would pop up throughout the different stories, but each time with a different face, yet always the same name.

If you would call it a 'name'.

The Doctor.

He was a man like no other, my Gran would recount as her eyes glazed over with the trip down memory lane. She would often talk about a TARDIS- I wasn't sure if it is a boat or a car, she would call it a ship, but then talk about how she went to the middle of Scotland in it.

He sounded like the most amazing and complex man. One minute he would be laughing with a child like abandonment and then the next minute he would be brooding with the pain of the last soldier standing.

He always had a different face apparently. I didn't know if she was being literal or metaphorical. Sometimes it was floppy hair and a childish silliness, other times it was sticky out ears and an enthusiasm for wondering about without the guide book.

He led her around Paris at midnight, down through the fields in Inverness and weaved her between market stalls in Morocco. She would talk about him like as if he was her greatest friend in the world and also like she was deeply in love with him. It was hard to tell at times where she had drawn the line.

I had once asked her if he was my grandfather- I didn't have one and with the way she talked about him, it was easy to assume. But she just laughed and smiled, taking a sip of her gin and tonic, and then telling me that it was definitely not him because she would definitely remember if it was.

My Gran died about five years ago. I can remember standing at the back of the church where the funeral was taking place. I never liked churches and found it rather terrifying to stand so close to a dead body. So I stood at the back, my hands in the lap of my itchy black dress.

The funeral was all wrong for her; Gran would have wanted to go out with a bang- with the spices of India, the trinkets of Moscow markets and the music of an Irish jig. Not with the sombre Catholic hymns that echoed in the arches of the tall cold gothic church. The man who appeared out of nowhere agreed with me.

"It's very dull isn't it?" he had a northern accent, a leather jacket and ears that were close to sticking out of his head at a ninety degree angle. I looked up at him and almost had a heart attack. It was him. My Gran's Doctor. This time it was the doctor who had helped her navigate the canals of Venice on a boat that was 'borrowed' (They did return it- but in two halves.)

I didn't say anything, but nodded and quickly turned my attention to the floor. The ancient stone slabs were so interesting. He continued to talk. "I would have thought she would go out with fireworks and an out of tune opera singer. She would have liked that." He turned his head back to me and smiled, but with a tiredness in his eyes. He was properly tired of seeing people go in the same way: in a box and with an uncoordinated black robed choir of relatives. I decided to speak up.

"Well- at least you'll be able to see her again." This caught his attention.

"Pardon?"

"You'll get back on your boat and sail through time, may be not with the same face, but you'll see her. You still need to help her climb the tree in South Africa and avoid being a lion's dinner."

I glanced up at him, his face was pulled into a confused frown and then he smiled. It was still a sad smile, but not as sad as the first time.

"You've also got to-" I was about to reveal all the other things Gran had told me about, but the Doctor just stopped me and let out a chuckle, "no spoilers". He then stood up and walked out of the church. He paused at the door and noticed me watching him, he gestured towards the coffin that sat in the middle of the pews nearest the altar, as if to say _time to say goodbye._

He then turned on his heel and left.

I walked up the passage way and placed my hand on the cold wood and closed my eyes to whisper my goodbyes to a woman that I didn't know I would love this much. As I finished a whooshing noise could be heard outside.

I presume he doesn't travel around in a boat.

**Well...let me know what you think! **


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